


king and lionheart

by ifori



Category: Free!
Genre: (but not too slow hopefully. More tags to be added. Rating to go up.), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Knight!Makoto, M/M, Slow Build, prince!Haru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifori/pseuds/ifori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> and as the world comes to an end, I'll be here to hold your hand 'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart.</i>
</p>
<p>the tale of prince Haruka and his cowardly knight in shining armour, Makoto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

His court is filled with numerous conversations and meaningless chatter about people he has no interest in and places he’ll never visit, so what’s the point? The prince wants to leave, he wants to go and watch the stars from his balcony or maybe – he’s that desperate to leave – go and sketch the sky instead. Why commit to memory when you’ve been blessed with the skill to immortalise it in art? He just wants to leave.

That is until his mother strikes up a particular interesting conversation.

“Protection?” He echoes, a brow raises and he folds his arms. They may only be in the adjoining room but the murmured voices seem a million miles away to him right now. 

“Yes, Haru,” His mother sighs, “your father is getting more and more bold with his ventures and you are still so young, we must be prepared to protect the dynasty whatever means necessary.”

“So, they would be my caregiver? A nursemaid of sorts?” The idea is completely ridiculous, Haru may be slightly more outgoing than royalty should be, he may mix with the common folk more than his teachers would like, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t need someone telling him where to go or what to do, why he should do this and not that and why doing that was a bad idea. All these sour thoughts must be more prominent than he thought; from how his mother sighs again they’re showing on his face.

“Haru, I have known you seventeen years and I know for a fact telling you to do something is like telling the sea not to come to shore.”

“So, I’m a trouble-maker now?” Haru looks up and meets his mothers gaze, so similar to his own but with that maternal, gentle touch that always knows how to calm him down when an attack goes wrong or he loses men. 

“You are a prince, Haru,” he flinches at the word, so she presses ever so slightly, “I know it’s hard and I know your life is busy and boring. You’d rather be climbing trees and playing in mud than formulating new plans to take territories and I am sorry for that,” she places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to her and he yields, unfolding his arms. Giving in. “But you are also my son, my only child and I would move mountains to protect you.”

It’s his turn to sigh, “This – _protection_. It’s like a bodyguard?” She nods. “They will have no political influence or influence on my actions? They’re just there to make sure my actions don’t cause me death or serious injury?”

The Queen hesitates at that, chewing her lip for a brief moment but if it’s the only way she can get her son to agree to this, then she’ll take it.

“Yes. I suppose that’s exactly what it is.” 

Haru folds his arms again, instantly going back on the defensive now that he has his way in at least one of the matters at hand. 

“Who did you choose? How many? Are they from father’s entourage?” 

Worry flares in his stomach when he sees his mother beginning to chew her lip again. 

“Not exactly,” She speaks fast when she notices Haru looks ready to speak again. She knew this part would be the hardest one; her son was not fond of outsiders or people he didn’t know, bringing strangers into his court no less was merely adding fuel to the fire. “he’s a good man!”

“He? _He?!_ There’s only one?” Haru sounded more impressed then anything, he was the country’s most valuable human being and they’d sent one man to protect him. How highly did this man think of himself? That he alone could protect the prince? He seemed snobby and arrogant and Haru didn’t like him.

He hadn’t met him, but he didn’t like him. 

“A farmer’s boy. Born and raised in this town just like you,” The tone in which the Queen was addressing her son was firm and he had no choice but to listen. “Your father and I held a small … _contest_ , if you will, a while back. Winner became your ‘bodyguard’.”

“And he won?”

“…Not exactly. He was – not _bad_ , persay, just not up to the job of a knight. Amused, your father asked him why he had even bothered to show up. He replied that he believed the prize would be money, money he could feed his family with.” She chuckles slightly, which brings a slight smile to Haru’s own face, “I think that’s when your father fell in love with him, he was honest, sincere, a good man and your father wouldn't entrust you to anyone else.” 

As noble as this man suddenly sounded, Haru still had his doubts. He had so many questions to ask, this was all happening so fast. Huffing slightly, he pursed his lips before going to speak again. Only to be interrupted by the large doors swinging open.

_Ah. So they were to meet today? Right now?_

The Prince, as a habit, cleared his throat and straightened his posture; it was second nature to look his best for new company now. Especially this sincere, honest knight his mother had spoken of so fondly. 

And the man that approached him seemed just that. He was tall, very tall, every bone in his face was defined and strong, yet his eyes weren’t. They had the same calming effect on him that his mothers did. As subtly as he could, Haru surveyed the knight, making fair judgments as he did; but he could find no issues. Even without his armour, this man seemed built and ready for battle. How hard did farmer’s work their sons these days? Again, the prince was drawn to the soft pools of green, finding himself not too worried with the idea of spending most of his time with this man at all. 

“Haruka Nanase, may I introduce you to Makoto Tachibana. From here on out he will be your protection and your guide.” A hasty bow and his mother was gone, flitting from the room as quickly as this man had entered it. 

The knight – _Makoto_ , went to bow, something Haru wished people didn’t do so much when they were around him, it was an unnecessary action that proved nothing. However, the helmet he cradled under his arm slipped and clattered to the floor, a minor thing that could be written off as nerves or something petty like that, Haru paid it no mind. 

But, Makoto did.

The moment the metal clattered loudly against the marble floor the taller boy shrieked and backed away, cowering in on himself slightly – well, as best as a man of his height could.

Did that – _scare him?_

Oh. _Now this was a problem_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was that.
> 
> Work written at 1am in 25 minutes shouldn't really be made public.
> 
> I may just write drabbles for these two because Haru is exceptionally fun to write as a prince. Who knew?
> 
> on tumblr: http://makotosnanase.tumblr.com/
> 
> come share your headcanons and ideas with me on twitter @gagareki
> 
> beta'd by the amazing: http://ariannemartellz.tumblr.com/ (thank you!)


	2. technicolour

Haru looks between the fallen armour and the cowering knight, blinking slowly in complete disbelief. A spark of – _something_ ignites in his chest, slowly expanding until it races down his arms and he finds himself able to move again. 

This feeling, he realises, is a desperate need to protect Makoto, to ensure he never hears him cry out like that again, the prince is still unsure whether he can call this man protection or whether he’d ever feel truly safe if they were to walk the streets at night together.

But maybe, just maybe, Makoto was to be the one to fill the empty space beside him, the void to his left that was ever present as he studied and painted. 

He would be company, if nothing else.

Slowly, Haru crouched down to retrieve the momentarily forgotten helmet, getting trapped in an emerald gaze as he does, a gaze he finds himself unable to hold and he turns to look at the task at hand. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he hears when he’s back standing, helmet in hands. Haru looks up and Makoto is no longer cowering, yet his head is still down. “I shouldn’t have left the task of retrieving my own armour to you, your highness. That was a horrible first impression.”

Haru nods slowly, though he doubts Makoto will look at him, or ever meet his eye again – and he won’t have that. 

“It’s alright,” The prince takes a few steps forward, holding the helmet out and Makoto cannot take it from him quickly enough, he seems so desperate to take away whatever he deems as a burden away from Haru, “I’ve had ruder ‘hello’s’, however, if you are willing to go back out and come back in, we can start again.” If there’s one thing Haru prides himself on, it’s his ability to make a joke with an entirely straight face, his mother has only just worked out his sense of humour, even after all these years.

Makoto’s head jerks up, “Y-Yes! I can do that! I can go – start again – yes!” Haru’s blinking at him again, is this knight joking back at him? It appears that was not the case as Makoto turned to leave, fully intent on following the prince’s request through to the letter. 

Ebony brows furrow for a moment before he quickly places a hand on the other’s arm. 

Haru was used to _being_ the enigma. Not being confronted with one. 

It was a rush.

“Makoto,” said man turns to face him, looking expectant and prepared for anything the other has to say to him, “I was joking.” In emphasis, he gives a small smile, surprised to find it wasn’t entirely forced. 

Now, Makoto is blinking back at him Suddenly, like a curtain falling at the end of a show, his entire face is blanketed in a red hue. “Oh! You were?” Haru nods, “I’m sorry –.”

“Stop apologising.” Haru’s expression and tone falls back neutral and he takes his hand away. A defence mechanism to spare both of them, joking and having fun with the other was nice, but it also made him forget that he was to entrust his life to this knight. He was not here to be Haru’s friend, he was Haru’s subordinate, just another worker inside these castle walls.

Nothing more.

“It would see you well to calm down, Sir.Tachibana. Your jittery ways are enough to put me into an early grave, let alone the men you protect me from.” Their gazes are held for a moment and Haru swears he can see the light flicker and fade from the other’s eyes. The prince’s complete one eighty-personality switch affecting him more than Haru can bear to see. 

And just like that, Makoto himself changes. The blush fades and his jaw is set firm again, every essence of childhood playfulness and excitement that this kingdom – that Haru – needed gone. 

“Your highness, I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Haruka.” 

Makoto hesitates, “I’m sorry?” 

“For now until the unforeseeable future, you and I are going to spend a lot of time together. You will address me by my name; it’s quicker and gives me less of a headache. My name is Haruka.” 

His hesitation grows, his mouth hanging open for a time, unable to get the correct sentence to tumble out fast enough. “I-I’m not sure that’s appropriate, what if someone were to overhear me? I -.” 

“How old are you?” 

The sudden, rapid fire questions were clearly starting to fluster Makoto again, a twinge of guilt twisted Haru’s gut. He’d told Makoto to act professional and like a knight and the taller boy was trying to hard not to disappoint, so he waited, watching Makoto take a deep breath, not letting his mask slip. 

“Seventeen.” 

Haru had his suspicions they were of similar age, but Makoto was younger than him, yet he had entered a fighting tournament to win money to feed his family and now he had been whisked to the king’s court, being asked to risk his life for his son. His attitude and nerves were nothing but understandable, the guilt twisted further into a persistent ache. 

“Well, in three months and nine days I will be eighteen,” Haru straightens up and folds his arms, quirking a brow at the other, “do you believe you are in a position to tell me what you should call me?” 

The brunet looks crestfallen, “No,” 

Now it was Haru’s turn to feel put out, his sense of humour was a lot less obvious than he first feared. Makoto was trying and that just made the prince feel even worse, he felt no better than the scholars and noblemen that had intimidated him when he was just a child. 

Too embarrassed to admit his mistake and confess that he didn’t mean to upset Makoto, Haru only seemed to turn colder. He nods firmly, turns on his heel and begins to walk away, painfully aware that Makoto isn’t following. 

“My mother is in the hall,” he points, “through there. Talking to her may help to settle you more. If you need me, she’ll know where to find me.” The taller male doesn’t wait to watch him leave, he bows – keeping the helmet in his grip this time – and exits the way Haru directed him. 

Safe in the knowledge – and slightly disappointing realization – that Makoto isn’t going to come back, Haru’s façade crumbles. 

He slumps back against the near wall, a hand to his forehead and a roaring in his ears. How right Makoto was when he said that there was a horrible first impression, but it wasn’t Makoto’s to Haru, quite the contrary it was horrible how he had presented himself to Makoto. 

Perhaps he was showing his ignorance, Haru was renowned for adorning a cloak and sneaking out to walk amongst the town’s folk, unguarded and free but he’d never actually spoken to anyone. But even with that being case, Makoto seemed different, he was so down to earth it’s like his feet were nailed to the ground. He personified everything Haru believed people should be, what Haru himself would like to be life if his lifestyle allowed it. 

A prince jealous of a farmhand-turned-knight, it was almost laughable. 

Makoto, Haru noted, was necessary. He added warmth to the walls of stone and colour to the fading tapestries. He would be Haru’s escape from duties and work, being with Makoto, someone his own age, would be an escape from being a the sole heir. 

Shaking his head, the prince pushed himself off the wall and began to climb the stairs, his head was swimming, meeting new people was tiring the best of times, his latest encounter had left him impossibly drained. 

***

The Queen was nervously pacing the floor, teeth nipping cautiously on the pad of her thumb. She had meant to leave and go about her own duties; her son didn’t need her hovering around him but leaving Haru alone with people often resulted in snide remarks and people being left extremely offended, she couldn’t imagine what he was saying to the man Haru was being forced to have by his side everyday. 

It was scary how similar her husband and her son were, she mused it was probably why one was an excellent king and why the other would grow to be an excellent king. 

The knock on door stirred her and she turned, “Makoto!” She didn’t mean to sound so surprised as the boy shyly entered, keeping his head low. 

“Your Majesty, I – if this is a bad time -.” She waves her hand so silence him and she hears his jaw shut with an audible click.

“No, no. It’s fine, it saves me the effort of coming to find you, thank you,” The knight smiles bashfully, “come. Sit.” She guides him to two chairs on the far end of the room, plush and red and Makoto cannot help but wonder how much wool, bread and meat combined his family would have to sell to be able to purchase but one of them. 

He waits until the lady is seating before sitting beside her. 

“My lady -.” She squeezes his hand before returning it to her own lap, 

“Call me Mai.”

Green eyes soften as he laughs, “Your name is Mai? That’s beautiful.”

“It’s not my real name, you understand.” He didn’t understand, but nods regardless, “but if we are to have many of these conversations I believe a first name basis would be easier.”

Shaking his head, he gnaws at his lip slightly, “Haru – _Your son_ said exactly the same thing to me.” The moment he mentions the young prince he sees her tense and lean in slightly closer, it seems they had reached the topic of conversation she had desperately been craving since he set foot in the room not two minutes ago. 

“How did it go?” she takes his hand again and seeing as how he is so desperately unsure how to respond, he lets her. “I love my son terribly but if you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

“No!” Makoto reels back slightly, alarmed by his own enthusiasm. Mai cocks her head slightly, surveying him curiously, “It went – _well_ , it could have gone better, but I want to stay. As you are aware I am no fighter, but I want to protect your son.” 

She stares at him, searching for any trace of insincerity or that he’s lying and doesn’t care for the Prince at all and he’s just here to escape the farm. 

She finds none of that. 

“Very well,” Mai smiles and gets to her feet, Makoto follows soon after, “I can have you knighted formally this evening, when Haruka’s father returns.” 

Makoto’s heart skipped a beat. This was really happening. 

“You will find my son in his room if you wish to speak to him before then, ask anyone and they will take you there.” Her smile flicks into a slight smirk, 

“I am entrusting you to guard something that the king and I value above all our lands and all our wealth, do not let us down.”

Makoto swallows.

“I won’t. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor haru and his conflicting emotions
> 
> also i needed to name Haruka's mother because she is a key player in this. 
> 
> So, yes! Next chapter will probably be Makoto's knighting and Haruka and Makoto talking and trying to work each other out. Cuties.
> 
> on tumblr: http://makotosnanase.tumblr.com/
> 
> come share your headcanons and ideas with me on twitter @gagareki
> 
> beta'd by the amazing: http://ariannemartellz.tumblr.com/ (thank you!)


	3. coral

Contrary to what he was told, Makoto didn’t seek out Haru and with his curiosity outweighing his concern he took the time to explore the castle himself. It’s not as if his constant walking down this hall or going back through this way would alert anyone or infuriate a person nearby, after all, his boots were just simple leather to protect his shins and feet. He couldn’t afford hard soles or heels. 

Not like Haruka could. 

It was odd not to catch his foot on a sharp stone and leap back in agony or to lose your footing entirely in a particularly large patch of mud. No, these floors were smooth and slightly cold - but he was not one to be fussy. A thought flitted across the brunet’s mind, if he’d grown up in such an elaborate building with such polished floors he’d never walk anywhere, he’d spend his life gliding effortlessly from room to room. He’d probably still do it now.

But, that was not how knights acted.

Especially knights who were appointed specifically to guard the prince.

Even if said prince didn’t like him. 

Makoto sighs and his walking ceases, suddenly he’s not so interested in exploring the castles and finding his feet. He wants fresh air and to clear his head, he doesn’t have time to go on an ‘adventure’, not anymore. As big and scary as this duty was, it had been entrusted to him and him alone, he wasn’t one to give up and let others down. Right now, he needed to think of ways to get the prince to accept and like him, how could he protect someone who could not bear to see him? Makoto rubs at his temples and takes a deep breath. 

He sets his mind on turning back the way he came and finding a route outside, that is until he hears voices at the end of the corridor, the last thing he needs right now is to talk to somebody of high status when his mind is in such disarray, he’s awkward with new people when he’s at his best. If he were to just quickly jump behind one of the large drapes– 

“You!” _Damnit._

Makoto turns, trying his best to act as though he had no idea there were other people present on this corridor, apparently there were two. A man and a woman.

“Yes?” The man steps closer and tilts his head, he’s not making it subtle that he’s extremely curious as to why someone like Makoto is in the castle. His greying tunic, brown pants and leather-clad feet must look quite the spectacle to someone like this. 

“May I ask why you’re here?”

“Ah, I was just– passing time, I wasn’t heading –.”

“No, no, I mean here. In the castle.” The man laughs, it’s a slight laugh but it’s a laugh clearly aimed at Makoto, after all, nothing funny has been said. It makes the brunet feel stupid and he wills himself not to blush and become all flustered. 

“I’m here for Har– _the prince_ , by orders of the king.” The words tasted funny on his tongue, his mind having to pry them out of his mouth. It felt so odd to speak with such confidence and so highly of himself. This morning these two people were of a much higher status than he, and now here he was. Makoto would definitely need to slap himself later, just to be safe. 

The man bristles, “I don’t find you funny. Such bold statements are punishable-” He ceases when the woman places a hand on his arm, when their eyes meet she shakes her head.

“He’s not lying, my lord. I recognise him, he entered the court this morning astride a horse beside one of the king’s best men.” Makoto all but preened, she sounded so fond and in awe of him for a second he doubted she was still talking about him. She faces him and bows her head slightly, apologising, “Our sincere apologies, Sir Knight,” Makoto wanted to tell her he was not a knight, although he would officially become one in but a few hours, he doubted he would ever truly be one. Feel like one. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

He falters, he doesn’t have an order for them, but he does have a question, “Ah, uhm, well– do you know where I can go outside?” 

“The training grounds?”

A nod, he’ll take anywhere he can see the sky and breathe cool air. “Y-Yes.” The man still fumes beside her as she smiles and tells him exactly where to go. Makoto swallows and nods, doing the improper thing of waving when they bow to him. The woman chuckles as she walks away, leading the man with her. 

Makoto watches them leave and deems his first interaction with the elite something of a success. 

***

The tall boy stuck to the shadows when he eventually emerged outside, behind the wooden fence that circled the large, dirt-covered centre where the action took place. If Makoto could have his way, he’d stay behind the fence for a good few years, observing and commenting, but he imagined nobody got such a luxury and were thrust into the centre the minute somebody could get their hands on them. In the heart of the grounds, under the painful midday sun, with only adrenaline and the shouts of fellow fighters to keep you going. It should have been an exhilarating thought, but it wasn’t. 

A vigorous shake of his head, accompanied with a few light slaps to his own cheeks and Makoto was swiftly knocked from his negative mindset. After all, there was no point in it, this was his life now and the king had assured him that his family would be okay and cared for in his absence; he lived in a castle now! The castle! And to have such worry and panic clouding his mind constantly would seriously hinder his new role to protect Haruka.

_Haruka…_

The prince would probably want Makoto on that training ground tomorrow, as soon as possible, maybe he’d even want to see him practice tonight after the ceremony. The thought had him shying in on himself again, resting his forearm on the fence and sighing. He was all too aware of how his build and stature could convince someone he was a knight or at least a man who could hold his ground. But, Makoto was neither of those things; he’d acquired his broad chest and bold shoulders through genetic luck and carrying sacks of grain for the past six years, not wielding a short and crushing men’s heads. 

He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the other warriors, or Haruka. _Especially_ not Haruka. 

Not two minutes ago he’d vowed to stop being negative, so he pushed himself off the fence and began to search around him. Curious eyes searched the walls, floors and benches behind him, surely there’d be something here to help him, he couldn’t exactly get any worse at fighting so anything would be an improvement. A sack to punch or kick, something to lift, somewhere to run. 

He was starting to get frantic again when he spotted something on the bench to his right. Upon approach, he found it was a sword, a real sword, just lying there, catching the sun on its blade. Makoto frowned, before shrugging and cautiously looking around wherever possible, it’s not as if he was going to steal it– he would never! The weapon wouldn’t even leave the training grounds, he was- borrowing it. Shyly, as though the object itself was going to jump up at him and yell _‘Gotcha!’_ , his broad palm encircled the sword’s grip and he lifted it, deciding his right hand was to be his sword one. 

It was heavy, but not enough to overwhelm him. Resting the blade flat on his left palm he couldn’t help but grin, he could hold it easily and the sword itself wasn’t too bulky and obtrusive. How hard could this be?

Very hard. 

That’s what Makoto realised very quickly the moment he’d sauntered into the centre of the grounds. He pulled the sword back, as though pulling it from a scabbard, the blade outweighing the grip and the sword fell, twisting Makoto’s wrist awkwardly. He yelped in pain, grabbing hastily at the blade with his left hand to pull it back up and to share the weight equally between his two hands. Exhaling heavily, he calmed down himself down, his wrist hadn’t snapped and he was okay, this was but a minor setback and there were some other moves he was aware of.

Shaking himself down a little, he readjusted his grip slightly, ensuring his clenched fist wasn’t uncomfortable against the cross-guard before trying again. It was a simple move; it was like hitting nail, a straight downward movement– with slightly more force. The sword was reared back and– 

He fell. 

Once again, he’d underestimated the weight of the blade that he was throwing over his head and, never being one for having good balance he fell back, landing heavily on the dirt. Makoto frowned, rubbing at his palms, which stung from the impact, and took a few deep breaths before reaching behind him, grabbing at the sword and standing up again. Slightly embarrassed to find himself already a little tired and aching, he began again. 

The brunet jabbed here, swung the sword across, up, down, but he kept losing his balance and stumbling slightly or occasionally moving his arm too forcefully and almost pulling it free from its socket. He was unsure how much time had passed, but the vast excersise he’d done in that time had left him hunched over and panting, and sweat was starting to stick his hair to his head. 

Okay, a few more–

“Having fun?” The voice came from behind and startled him terribly, he practically screamed and dropped the sword heavily. He spun around, almost tripping himself up and stared wide-eyed at the stranger, who was now chuckling at him.

“Ah– I– I’m sorry! It’s just– I thought maybe–.”

“You would use my sword to practise with?” _Practice?_ This man considered what Makoto was doing ‘practice’. It probably looked more like playing or fooling around. 

“It’s your sword– oh, I am terribly sorry.” Makoto bows and the stranger approaches him, waving dismissively.

“Please, please, pay it no mind! I was watching you for a while, actually. You have potential… somewhere.” The brunet straightens up and looks at him, eyes scanning his form as he rises. This man too was a knight, as established by him owning a sword and his very presence here, on the fighting grounds. Yet, even now he was adorned with a rich purple tunic. He looked like royalty himself, the only thing giving him away were his rich violet eyes and bouncy coral hair, neither of which the dynasty did – or ever had – possessed. 

“I just wanted to– get better, I suppose.” Makoto rubs at his neck and the other knight laughs, 

“Sir Tachibana, correct?”

“Ah– yes! Well, not officially – not yet, but from tonight… How did you know?”

“My family has served the Nanases longer than your farm has probably existed, I know everything! Sir Shigino,” he bows slightly, “at your service.”

“Ah, well, Sir Shi—.”

“Friends call me Kisumi,” Makoto tilts his head slightly and blinks, clearly at a loss for what to say, Kisumi laughs, “You may call me Kisumi.” 

“Oh, well, Kisumi,” The taller boy hastily bends down and grabs blindly at the dirt until the sword is once again in his possession, he holds it out to the other, “I believe this is yours and I, uh, I deeply apologise for just- taking it. I meant no harm, it’s just – I’m not very good and maybe, well–.” He sighs and drops his head, embarrassment flooding his body more then his own blood does. 

The sword is pushed back to him and his head snaps up, brows furrowing. 

“No, I’m not giving it to you,” Kisumi smirks and Makoto blushes further, he never thought that for one minute! “but as I said, you have potential, really you do. I’d like to help.”

“Why?” Surely knights would want to be the best, not help others possibly become better than them, even though it was doubtful Makoto would ever get to that point. 

Kisumi shrugs, “Most new knights come in here demanding a fanfare, a suit of armour and the greatest sword ever forged. You’re not like that– you’re the exact opposite! You know your flaws and you acknowledge them,” he winks, “that’s excellent knight material right there.” 

The blush remains but for a different reason. Makoto suddenly feels proud of himself, that he stayed true to who he was. He cannot help but smile at Kisumi, even when the other walks away from his line of sight to stand behind him, suddenly kicking his ankle. He wobbles slightly, but sets his legs shoulder width apart.

“Your stance is all wrong, that’s why you nearly fell over– several times.” Makoto hears him laugh, but this time he can’t help but join in, “Right handed?” A nod, “Alright, right foot forward.” 

After several more commands and Kisumi pushing Makoto here and telling him to raise this and turn that slightly, the smaller warrior deemed his stance was fine. The brunet was afraid to move a muscle in case they had to start again. 

“Your problem was that this is a two handed sword, it’s meant to be heavy and difficult to manoeuvre sometimes, but it's a tough blade, one of the finest and most fierce weapons I've ever come across. Beginners don’t usually start with one of these, which is why I couldn’t help but watch and be impressed.” Without any further encouragement, Makoto clasps the grip with his left hand as well as his right and Kisumi nods, flashing him a smile. 

“Alright, Sir Tachibana.”

“Friends call me Makoto.” He grins,

“Makoto, let’s see what you got.” 

***

The minutes bleed into hours; the only indication of how much time had passed was the setting sun, which now cast a warm yellow glow on the two laughing fighters. They collapse heavily onto the ground, resting their backs against the fence and panting heavily. 

“See? You’re not terrible.” Kisumi says, clapping his hand on Makoto’s shoulder.

“Thank you, but– hah– I still think I have a long way to go before-.”

“Haruka!” Kisumi leaps to his feet and Makoto watches the purple blur whiz around him before his eyes come to rest on, well, Haruka. The prince was walking across the training ground towards them. Makoto follows suit and scrambles to his own feet, much less gracefully then Kisumi had done.

“Sir Shigino, my father is fond of you, and your father, and your father’s father, but to me you are just a knight and I am your prince, address me as such.” His words have bite to them, but his tone is almost bored like he’s said this countless times and by the look on Kisumi’s face, he has. The knight is grinning and bouncing slightly on his toes, which is incredible as Makoto feels he lacks the energy to blink. 

“My apologies, your highness. It shall not happen again.” Haruka sighs, knowing it will. “So, did you come to see your favourite knight?”

“Sir Tachibana.”

“Eh?! I thought I was your favourite.” Haruka shoots him a look and Kisumi knows enough is enough; he bows and backs away slightly. 

“I came to see you, Makoto.” 

Makoto hurriedly steps forward, beaming slightly that he gets his first name spoken and Kisumi doesn’t, “Y-Yes, of course.” 

“My father will return in a few hours, I came to ensure that you were ready,” he looks the brunet up and down and he fidgets slightly under the gaze, “I can see that is not the case.”

Kisumi speaks up, “With all due respect, your highness, Sir Tachibana was merely training, so he felt more ready to accept the role that you have given him.”

Haruka raises a brow, “And to keep him so late?”

“Entirely my fault.”

Haruka half smiles, “Clearly. Thank you for your… generosity, Sir, but that’s enough for today, Makoto is to come with me now.” And with that, Haruka turns swiftly on his heels and walks back the way he came from. He stops at the doorway that would take him back inside, looking over his shoulder.

“That guy, never stays in one place too long…” Makoto hears Kisumi grumble, but his tone is fond. 

“Makoto?” Said knight jumps slightly and goes to follow, stopped momentarily by Kisumi’s hand on his arm.

“Good luck.” Kisumi clearly means with Haruka and not the ceremony later tonight, Makoto swallows and picking up on these nerves the other laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Besides, I’ve never seen the prince come to ‘check on’ a knight for my entire eighteen years service here. You must be special.”

The last comment is clearly meant as a joke, but the brunet cannot help but feel something flicker in his chest and he smiles. Did Haruka really think that? Maybe it wasn’t just Makoto who was trying to patch things up between them. If they were working together they’d be friends in no time. A nod and Makoto runs after the prince, 

“I’ll see you later tonight, Makoto! All the mead is on me!” 

With a look over his shoulder, Makoto waves and heads inside, Haruka by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourselves in, Kisumi's here and he's here to stay.
> 
> So, yeah! Longer chapter (it's chapter one and two combined oops) I think I'll make them longer from now on? Just for more detail and stuff.
> 
> This fic is still pure self indulgence omg.
> 
> on tumblr: http://makotosnanase.tumblr.com/
> 
> come share your headcanons and ideas with me on twitter @gagareki
> 
> beta'd by the amazing: http://ariannemartellz.tumblr.com/ (thank you!)


	4. walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd for now and short whilst i get a feel again for these characters!

In spite of their height differences, Haruka’s pace was brisk and left Makoto all but jogging in an attempt to walk by his side. The taller boy swallowed, thinking of how short the other had been with him earlier and how desperate he seemed to be to keep a distance between the two of them now. Catching his lip between his teeth, he stopped.

“Haruka? Haruka!” The prince jolted, as though being pulled from a deep thought before turning to face the other, his face looking adorably concerned and vulnerable.

“Yes, Makoto?” 

Emerald eyes lower themselves, before peeking up shyly behind his sandy locks, “I’m sorry…”

The confusion grows on Haruka’s face as though he’s now truly lost, “What on earth for?”

“For earlier, with Kisumi. I shouldn’t have wandered like that and neglected what I was brought here to do.”

In a flash the confusion is gone, if Makoto looks closely enough, he swears he can see the raven smiling, “You were brought here to fight and protect me and that’s what I saw you learning to do.” 

His own head raises and he sees Haruka has stepped closer to him, and when he doesn’t respond, the other continues.

“It’s just – you don’t need Kisumi, I will teach you to fight and defend yourself.” 

Makoto opens and closes his mouth a few times … Haruka fights? The knight always saw the other as the brains of this kingdom, the thinker and the literate one who would come up with plans rather then execute them.

Haruka had impressed him many times and he’d hardly been here a day.

“You fight?”

Suddenly, azure eyes fall dark again and his mouth is set in a line, the scoff he gives is quiet and Makoto barely catches it – but it’s there.

“Yes, often.” He turns again and walks off; his pace is slower, however, “Now come.” 

So much slower, in fact, that Makoto just has to walk to keep beside him. Feeling relaxed in the others company and knowing he wasn’t a total pain – Haruka wanted to teach him! – Makoto decided to strike up conversation. 

“Where are we going?”

“You are to be knighted this evening. Word has come that my father currently resides just three towns over and that means he will return in a matter of hours. His homecoming is to be your ceremony,” Haruka looks up at him, “and you’re far from ready.” There’s a lilt to his tone and Makoto smirks, looking straight back at him.

“Are you playing with me again?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Like you did earlier, when you told me to come back in and start again.” Haruka has the gaul to laugh at him.

“I don’t remember that.”

“What?!”

“I think you made that up, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It’s exactly what you did!”

Haruka doesn’t reply, he just continues to look straight ahead, but Makoto doesn’t miss the glint in his eyes or the smirk tugging at his lips. 

Getting back on track, Makoto claps his hands together, “So, how do you plan to make me ready?”

“First you are to bathe.”

“Bathe?”

“Yes, as is custom,” Haruka glances at him, “And because you desperately need it.” 

The knight throws his head back and laughs, not even bothering to retaliate because he’s right; his training with Kisumi in the midday sun really hadn’t helped him. 

“Yes, well –.”

“Makoto! Haruka!” Both men manage to tear their gazes from each other to see Mai walking towards them, though the Queen’s tone sounded quite frantic; she strolls towards them, smiling softly. She’s pleased to her son getting on so well with somebody else, it warms her heart to see both of them so happy and comfortable in each other’s company. 

“Mother,” Haruka nods his head and she beams back at him,

“I see you found him.”

“F-Found who?” Makoto pipes up, stepping slightly in between the Queen and her son,

“You. Haruka was looking all over for you. He got quite concerned when you didn’t go straight to him after speaking to me, he panicked and thought you hadn’t taken the job, but I assured him you had.” Mai finished her anecdote with a sweet smile and Makoto isn’t sure who it’s aimed at. He guesses its Haruka and turns to look at him too.

Haruka is blushing.

He’s staring wide eyed at his mother and there’s a light red hue resting on his cheekbones.

Did that embarrass him?

Makoto contains his chuckle, but it comes through in his tone anyway, “I-Is that true?”

Haruka coughs into his fist and – to Makoto’s amazement – he’s composed again, though the blush lingers, “It would be too much trouble to get another knight. I’d having to keep making nice with several others over and over.” Makoto looks at Mai who simply shrugs at him and he laughs.

“I see.”

“If you’ll excuse us, mother, Makoto and I must get ready for Father’s homecoming.” 

She pouts and tilts her head, “Haruka, my women and I prepare the knights for knighting, you needn’t trouble yourself.” 

Haruka coughs again, “No, mother. Makoto is my knight,” Something twitches in Makoto’s stomach, but he doesn’t flinch. “He and I shall get ready together in my chambers. Surely that’s allowed?”

Mai is grinning again, “Of course. I suppose I shall see you both later then?” 

They nod and she returns it, walking effortlessly between them and down the hall, even from her departing back Haruka can tell she’s pleased with herself at something she’s done. 

His frown is persistently aimed at his mothers back and suddenly Makoto speaks, catching him again.

“I wouldn’t leave.”

“Hm?” Haruka turns back to him, but the taller isn’t meeting his eyes, he seems to have found a particularly interesting tile on the floor to lock his gaze onto.

“I wouldn’t leave this job,” Makoto finally looks up, “not without telling you. I – I know I’m not the strongest or the bravest knight, I know I’m not even a knight! But I am honest and I’m willing to try.” Haruka watches as the others throat clenches tightly, “If you’ll have me.” 

For a few moments, Haruka doesn’t reply. He tries his best to make an inconspicuous attempt at calming himself, his heart is beating erratically and occasionally it skips a beat. Without a doubt, the prince would have believed every word Makoto said from his words alone, his tone and the fire in his voice, but he didn’t just have that, there was a determination, strong as stone, set deep in viridian irises and Haruka didn’t know how to look anywhere else but at Makoto. 

Slowly but surely, his reply comes crawling towards him.

“Of course I’ll have you,” he mutters, worrying his lip between his teeth for a moment, “you’re one of the few people here that isn’t family and still wants to talk to me.” 

Haruka Nanase was never one for desperately seeking attention or drawing the spotlight onto himself but he felt that particular fact needed to be shared, he wasn’t seeking pity from Makoto, he just wanted him to understand. The prince had snapped at the other and gave him the cold shoulder the moment they met but he’d stayed, he’d tried to better himself and become someone he thought Haruka could be proud of. That meant more to the raven then Makoto would probably ever know.

He suddenly felt small after admitting such a thing to someone he hardly knew. He was suddenly exposed and open, Makoto could practically say or do anything and Haruka would have little to no retaliation. 

“I like talking to you.” The royal stares at him, at the farmhand and his lopsided grin and kind eyes and he laughs, a slight burst of giddiness managing to break free for a moment, resting upon his features in a smirk. 

As feared, Haruka was open and vulnerable, no words came to his mind nor could he move his features in a way that would get Makoto back on track, get them both back to being people of status; a prince and his knight.

A wall had fallen between them and Haruka wasn’t sure he wanted it to be rebuilt. 

Haruka doesn’t cough this time, he’s all to aware of his outburst of merriment and how foolish he must have looked and sounded, but something in his gut tells him Makoto would prefer to see him in this sincere light and for that reasons alone, he doesn’t regret his action. 

“Well,” Haruka gestures for Makoto to walk up the stairwell they now stand before, the taller boy obliges, “the feeling is mutual.”

After that, they walk in silence for a while, Makoto unsure how to reply to such a compliment and Haruka simply grateful to walk these halls with someone by his side for a change.

So lost was the brunet in thinking of the correct response to his prince’s earlier comment that he almost walked passed the door to Haruka’s chambers, only stopping when a lithe hand encircled his wrist, his head jerked up and his head whipped round.

“You seem on edge.” Haruka’s tone implied different, he was essentially saying; you are on edge. Tell me what is wrong. Makoto would have been embarrassed at being so easily read had he not been able to read Haruka just as well. 

“I’m fine,” and now that he had Haruka’s genuine concern and a firm hand holding him, it wasn’t entirely a lie, “I apologise.”

The heir half smiles, dropping his hand from the warmth of Makoto’s skin and opens the door, stepping inside in silence and waiting for weighty footsteps and the door to click shut before he turns.

“You are amused.” Makoto tells him, his tone oddly similar to how his own was merely seconds ago, he smiles. 

“By you.” Instantly, Makoto’s cheeks burn red and Haruka can see the million responses whirring through his mind, it’s an endearing sight to see and it makes Haruka want to laugh more, but he can see the trouble in Makoto’s eyes.

“It’s fine, Makoto.” Like a switch has been flicked, he instantly calms down. Clearing his throat from panicked replies and his mind from the thick haze, he looks away. 

Frowning, Haruka steps closer, his people skills were never the best, prince or otherwise. But, he believed he was being playful with the other, he assumed they were friends now and this behavior was acceptable, but the lack of words or smile from Makoto worried him, had he ruined things before they’d even begun? Something twisted sharply in him and he almost wants to double over in agony, for reasons even he cannot yet see, he couldn’t bear for that to have happened. 

Was he to ask Makoto for a second (though he was probably on his fourth) chance? Was he to fall to his knees and ask for forgiveness? 

“Makoto, -.”

Suddenly the other boy is looking at him, a broad, genuine grin plastered upon his face, his eyes bright and his cheeks still clinging to the remnants of embarrassment. The sight momentarily knocks Haruka’s breath for him, yet he’s quick to find it, feeling foolish for not understanding his own emotions. 

“I’m glad I amuse you!” Makoto laughs, folding his arms and mocking upset, though the grin makes the act useless. The sound is quick and fleeting, fleeing from the room before Haruka has time to capture it and savour it.

“You fool!” Haruka speaks, aghast, but his own lips twitch, “I truly thought I’d hurt you,” his next action is executed with heavy caution; he raises his fist and playfully jabs it into Makoto’s shoulder. If the other picked up on his hesitation, he didn’t say, the broader boy just took the hit and laughed more, Haruka instantly latching onto the noise this time. He committed it as best he could to memory, knowing it would never compare to the real thing, but he felt even this imposter of a laugh would help him when he needed it.

“I’m made of stronger stuff than you give me credit for, your highness.” Makoto’s arms unfurl. 

“I give you more credit than you give me credit for.” Haruka quips back with remarkable speed, leaving Makoto open mouthed and chuckling slightly.

Haruka turns and leaves him to his amusement, heading towards the large bay window on the far wall to open it and it’s only then Makoto remembers his situation. As subtly as he can, he takes in the prince’s room and the sheer scale of it and how he could fit his entire home in here with ease. Though, it has elements Makoto expects from royalty and a palace, four-poster bed, marble floors and unnecessarily long, velvet drapes. There’s a seating area and Makoto wonders how any could find room to sit on there with the amount of cushions strewed upon the seats, and beyond that lies a door, Makoto deducts, with little effort, that it’s a bathroom.

Slowly, his gaze rolls back to Haruka, who now sits by the open window, perched lightly on the window seat, he approaches slowly. 

Makoto goes to ask what he is to; not forgetting the important ceremony that is to take part later today, but the raven seems to catch him first. 

“Sit with me. There’s time.” The proposal seems to good to pass up, not that the knight would argue with royalty, anyway. Makoto obeys, sitting cross-legged on the seat and admiring the view with Haruka, though he seems to find it more beautiful and wondrous than the prince does His azure gaze seems tired and unsatisfied, in spite of the mass grounds and rolling hills that lay before him, that he would soon rule over. 

Again, Makoto goes to ask if he’s okay, but Haruka is there again.

“You said,” Haruka looks at him, though Makoto cannot understand why he’d look at him when, what looks like, the entire world lies outside the window, “you are made of stronger stuff than I know.”

Makoto flinches, fearing he’s insulted Haruka’s intelligence. “I – I didn’t mean … it was a joke.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Makoto doesn’t like being read so easily, Haruka draws his leg closer to him, folding his hands over his knee and resting his cheek upon them, clearly settling in for what he expects to be a long story, which he prompts with, “What are you made of, Sir Tachibana?”

What is he made of? Makoto does not know. 

He chews cautiously at his lip, is he to talk about himself? Open up to the prince and tell him everything? The farmhand doesn’t like the sound of that, he’s not interesting at all, he holds no tales of conquest in his life, but Haruka stares at him expectantly, ready to hear whatever Makoto has to say, regardless of how mundane or how long his past may be. 

“I don’t know where to start…” 

Haruka’s eyes slip closed, but something in Makoto’s chest lets him know he still has the others full attention,

“The beginning is often a good place to start.” The prince mumbles, smiling softly, if his eyes were open he’d see Makoto smiling fondly back, completely endeared and enraptured in the sight before him. 

But he doesn’t see and Makoto is quick to gather himself.

“Well, uh, I-.”

“Makoto!” The door on the far wall flies open again, slamming against the wall. Makoto tenses and his body becomes rigid, as though frozen in fear. Haruka, however, is instantly on his feet, his stance similar to how Makoto’s had been earlier when he was being taught to attack and defend.

“Kisumi!” The name leaves Makoto’s lips in a relieved breath, his body relaxing and his muscles unfurling as he calms down. 

The addressed knight grins playfully, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Haruka’s head whips to look at Makoto, concern laced through his gaze.

“I wasn’t scared,” he assures them both, “W-Well, I was ... But it’s okay, really.”

“What are you doing here?” Haruka is quick to ask; apparently having the question on standby for the very second he could ask it, his gaze falls back to the coral haired menace, though he seems apprehensive to let it leave Makoto.

“Your father shall be back by sundown, your highness! Besides, you can’t expect to get Makoto ready all by yourself, can you?” He grins, “I came to help, with your mother’s permission, of course.” 

“My mother?” Haruka seems to question this more to himself than to the bouncing knight before him. Kisumi swiftly side steps around Haruka, standing before Makoto, hands on hips. 

“Makoto doesn’t mind, do you?” No. The brunet doesn’t mind at all. He feels warmth in his chest that Kisumi, this great knight, has taken to him so quickly and with such sincere friendship.

“No, not at all!” 

Kisumi claps Haruka on the back, “See? Now, you can go sit-.” 

“I want to help.” The prince speaks without turning, his voice sounds strained as though speaking through clenched teeth. 

“Huh?” The older knight slaps his own forehead playfully, “Of course, of course! Apologies, your highness.”

Makoto finds it amusing he’s still using terms of address despite the fact he’s bossing Haruka around. 

“Your mother has Makoto’s clothes and armour ready if-.” Haruka is already walking away. 

“Haruka...” Makoto gets to his feet, 

“Be ready for when I get back.” He tells Makoto over his shoulder, his eyes kind for a moment before falling hard and on the other knight in the room. 

“Don’t worry about us!” Kisumi calls serenely, watching the door slam and turning to the brunet, “Come, Makoto. You’re about to become a knight!”

Nodding, he allows himself to be dragged around by the other and something in Makoto’s chest flutters.

On the other side of the door, something in Haruka’s chest burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this will hopefully be beta'd by Monday(?). if there's anything glaringly obvious tell me and I'll fix it!]
> 
> yeah. i missed this story and these characters so, hello!
> 
> This fic is now dedicated to everyone who I've rambled AU's too and promised fics too, have this instead!
> 
> I'm gonna change chapters around a little bit, because I do feel they are individually too short. But, they will get longer now that my deadlines are pretty much met and I have a feel for this setting/these guys again, so yes! 
> 
> come yell at me for not letting this fic die: @gagareki


End file.
